Overview
Stats
About Zethrus
Beep boop.
Followers
Following
Collections (8)
Bunkers
Farms
Hospitals
Houses
Industrial
Misc
Private Locations
Unique Coordinates
My Gallery Photos (0)
Zethrus hasn’t added any photos yet.
Pin Photos (149)
Zethrus hasn't uploaded photos to any pins yet.
Badges
-
Seasoned ExplorerUploaded a total of 100 pins to Urbex PlanetEarned 10/22/2025 -
Halloween 2025Awarded to explorers who were active during the spooky season of Halloween 2025. A limited-time commemorative badge for those brave enough to explore haunted locations! 👻🎃Earned 10/27/2025 -
CChristmas 2025Awarded to users active between Dec 20th and Dec 31st of 2025.Earned 12/20/2025
-
NNew Year 2026Awarded to users active on Dec 31st or Jan 1st.Earned 12/30/2025
Submitted Locations (42)
| Name | Description | Visibility | Collection |
|---|---|---|---|
|
Submitted Nov 17, 2025 at 7:46 PM• 3 months ago
Updated Jan 16, 2026 at 12:49 AM
• a month ago
|
Rays Hill Tunnel (West Portal), PA abandoned turnpike: 3,532-ft relic abandoned 1968. Mossy arched entrance reclaimed by woods, pitch-black tube filled with echoes, scattered debris & fading graffiti on this ghostly stretch of old PA Turnpike. | public | -- |
|
Submitted Nov 17, 2025 at 7:44 PM• 3 months ago
Updated Jan 16, 2026 at 12:49 AM
• a month ago
|
Rays Hill Tunnel (East Portal), PA abandoned turnpike: 3,532-ft dark bore frozen since 1968 bypass. Cracked concrete arch swallowed by forest, graffiti-splashed walls & leaf-covered road inside this silent sibling to Sideling Hill on the lost PA Turnpike. | public | -- |
|
Submitted Nov 17, 2025 at 7:38 PM• 3 months ago
Updated Jan 16, 2026 at 12:49 AM
• a month ago
|
Sideling Hill Tunnel (West End), PA abandoned turnpike: mirror-image 4,300-ft bore abandoned since 1968. Vines swallow the cracked portal, debris-strewn tubes echo with dripping water & distant birds. Eerie twin to the east end on this lost stretch of PA Turnpike. | public | -- |
|
Submitted Nov 17, 2025 at 7:36 PM• 3 months ago
Updated Jan 16, 2026 at 12:49 AM
• a month ago
|
Sideling Hill Tunnel (East End), PA abandoned turnpike: 4,300-ft twin-bore relic bypassed in 1968. Graffiti-lit portals, crumbling asphalt & eerie silence now rule this Cold War-era PA Turnpike ghost road, frozen in time amid dense forest. | public | -- |
|
Submitted Nov 12, 2025 at 3:39 PM• 3 months ago
Updated Jan 16, 2026 at 12:48 AM
• a month ago
|
Nestled on the rugged cliffs of the Beara Peninsula in West Cork, Ireland, the ruins of this mid-19th-century Famine cottage stand as a somber testament to An Gorta Mór, the Great Famine that claimed over a million lives between 1845 and 1852. Once a humble stone homestead for tenant farmers eking out a subsistence on marginal, windswept land, it was likely abandoned amid the potato blight, widespread starvation, and brutal evictions that decimated rural communities in this remote corner of County Cork. Today, the site reveals weathered walls and scattered foundations half-swallowed by gorse and heather, just a short hike from the Napoleonic-era Old Signal Tower and overlooking the dramatic Dursey Sound. Accessible via the unmarked L8901 road, this fragile relic invites mindful explorers to contemplate Ireland's resilient spirit, urging visitors to tread lightly and preserve its poignant silence as a window into a nation's enduring scars. | public | -- |
|
Submitted Nov 6, 2025 at 5:01 PM• 3 months ago
Updated Jan 16, 2026 at 12:47 AM
• a month ago
|
Straddling the dusty fringes of Highway 97 in Vernon, British Columbia's sun-drenched Okanagan corridor, this weathered sentinel; a modest gray stucco outpost with a pitched roof and sagging portico; hunkers like a forgotten pit stop from the valley's trucking heyday. Likely a roadside shop or service shack born in the postwar boom, it once buzzed with the clatter of travelers fueling up, its double doors swinging to hawk sundries or quick fixes under the watchful gaze of Swan Lake's distant shimmer. But as big-box sprawl eclipsed the mom-and-pops and traffic thundered on, it shuttered its fate with a stark "CLOSED" placard, surrendering to the creep of thistles and cheatgrass that now choke its threshold, while a lone blue dumpster squats like a mocking tombstone beside rusted utility poles and the skeletal hulks of shipping containers. Urban explorers threading BC's vein of forgotten byways will unearth a compact elegy to transience here: nudge past the splintered awning to frame the graffiti-flecked facade against the hulking forms of nearby warehouses, or circle the perimeter where wild sunflowers claw through cracked concrete, the air humming with the phantom diesel growl of semis on the overpass. A subtle canvas for your shutter to capture the quiet insurgency of weeds reclaiming what commerce cast aside, all under skies that stretch eternally blue and indifferent. | public | -- |
|
Submitted Nov 5, 2025 at 2:49 PM• 3 months ago
Updated Jan 16, 2026 at 12:47 AM
• a month ago
|
Perched on the stark, wind-scoured plains of north-central Montana, roughly 25 miles northwest of Ledger amid the endless ripple of golden prairie grass, the Safeguard Montana Complex looms as a colossal monument to Cold War paranoia and hasty abandonment. Conceived in the late 1960s as a bulwark in the U.S. Army's anti-ballistic missile shield, this remote outpost; dubbed the Perimeter Acquisition Radar site, was meant to scan Soviet skies and safeguard nearby Minuteman silos at Malmstrom Air Force Base. Billions poured into its foundations before the 1972 Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty slammed the brakes, leaving the project a mere 10% complete: a gargantuan, unfinished pyramid of weathered concrete rises like a ziggurat from another era, its truncated second level scarred by rebar skeletons, flanked by derelict power plants, cavernous heat sinks, and skeletal barracks that whisper of a workforce that vanished overnight. Urban explorers drawn to this "million-dollar f#@k up" of governmental hubris will find a labyrinth of rust and regret, where the low howl of Montana winds funnels through shattered ventilation shafts and graffiti blooms like defiant wildflowers on blast doors long sealed against phantom threats. Ascend the precarious catwalks for panoramic views of isolation unbroken save for distant oil derricks, or delve into the subterranean bowels where echoes of radar hums mingle with the drip of infiltrating meltwater, unearthing faded blueprints and rusted consoles that once dreamed of intercepting Armageddon. | public | -- |
|
Submitted Nov 5, 2025 at 12:45 PM• 3 months ago
Updated Jan 16, 2026 at 12:47 AM
• a month ago
|
Nestled in the windswept prairies of Saskatchewan, approximately 50 kilometers northeast of Saskatoon along Highway 41, the ghost town of Smuts stands as a poignant relic of rural ambition and inevitable decline. Once a bustling community of around 200 souls in the early 20th century, drawn by the promise of fertile farmland and Ukrainian immigrant heritage, Smuts thrived on grain elevators, a general store, and the rhythmic hum of daily life. But as economic shifts and mechanized agriculture hollowed out small towns across the Canadian plains, residents drifted away, leaving behind a skeletal landscape of weathered homesteads, crumbling barns, and the solitary sentinel of St. John the Baptist Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church; its onion-domed silhouette a haunting nod to the faith that anchored the settlers. For urban explorers, Smuts offers a raw, unfiltered portal to the past, where the creak of rusted gates and the whisper of buffalo grass through shattered windows evoke stories untold. Tread carefully among the abandoned cabins scattered like forgotten dreams across endless fields, where graffiti tags mingle with faded wallpaper peels, and the vast sky presses down like a forgotten memory. | public | -- |
|
Submitted Oct 31, 2025 at 6:59 AM• 4 months ago
Updated Jan 16, 2026 at 12:46 AM
• a month ago
|
Bodie, California, is a legendary gold rush ghost town located in the Bodie Hills east of the Sierra Nevada Mountains in Mono County, about 75 miles southeast of Lake Tahoe. Discovered in 1859 by prospector W.S. Bodey—who perished in a blizzard before seeing its success—the site exploded into a booming mining camp after rich gold strikes in 1876, attracting up to 10,000 residents by 1879 with over 2,000 buildings, including 65 saloons, opium dens, a red-light district, and a Wells Fargo bank, earning a reputation for lawlessness, gunfights, and harsh winters. During its peak from 1877 to 1881, Bodie's mines produced nearly $34 million in gold and silver, making it one of California's most productive sites, supported by innovative technologies like the Standard Mill for ore processing. The town's decline began in the 1880s due to depleted veins, economic downturns, and devastating fires in 1892 and 1932 that razed much of the community, reducing the population to a few hundred by the early 1900s and labeling it a ghost town by 1915. Mining ceased entirely by 1942, and the last residents departed in the 1950s, leaving Bodie abandoned until it was designated a California State Historic Park in 1962 and a National Historic Landmark in 1961. Today, preserved in a state of "arrested decay" with about 170 weathered buildings, including homes, a schoolhouse, church, and jail. Bodie attracts over 200,000 visitors annually to explore its eerie, time capsule atmosphere, accessible year-round via State Route 270. | public | -- |
Rays Hill Tunnel West Portal
Rays Hill Tunnel (West Portal), PA abandoned turnpike: 3,532-ft relic abandoned 1968. Mossy arched entrance reclaimed by woods, pitch-black tube filled with echoes, scattered debris & fading graffiti on this ghostly stretch of old PA Turnpike.
Rays Hill Tunnel East Portal
Rays Hill Tunnel (East Portal), PA abandoned turnpike: 3,532-ft dark bore frozen since 1968 bypass. Cracked concrete arch swallowed by forest, graffiti-splashed walls & leaf-covered road inside this silent sibling to Sideling Hill on the lost PA Turnpike.
Sideling Hill Tunnel, West End
Sideling Hill Tunnel (West End), PA abandoned turnpike: mirror-image 4,300-ft bore abandoned since 1968. Vines swallow the cracked portal, debris-strewn tubes echo with dripping water & distant birds. Eerie twin to the east end on this lost stretch of PA Turnpike.
Sideling Hill Tunnel, East End
Sideling Hill Tunnel (East End), PA abandoned turnpike: 4,300-ft twin-bore relic bypassed in 1968. Graffiti-lit portals, crumbling asphalt & eerie silence now rule this Cold War-era PA Turnpike ghost road, frozen in time amid dense forest.
Famine Cottage
Nestled on the rugged cliffs of the Beara Peninsula in West Cork, Ireland, the ruins of this mid-19th-century Famine cottage stand as a somber testament to An Gorta Mór, the Great Famine that claimed over a million lives between 1845 and 1852. Once a humble stone homestead for tenant farmers eking out a subsistence on marginal, windswept land, it was likely abandoned amid the potato blight, widespread starvation, and brutal evictions that decimated rural communities in this remote corner of County Cork. Today, the site reveals weathered walls and scattered foundations half-swallowed by gorse and heather, just a short hike from the Napoleonic-era Old Signal Tower and overlooking the dramatic Dursey Sound. Accessible via the unmarked L8901 road, this fragile relic invites mindful explorers to contemplate Ireland's resilient spirit, urging visitors to tread lightly and preserve its poignant silence as a window into a nation's enduring scars.
The Shuttered Outpost
Straddling the dusty fringes of Highway 97 in Vernon, British Columbia's sun-drenched Okanagan corridor, this weathered sentinel; a modest gray stucco outpost with a pitched roof and sagging portico; hunkers like a forgotten pit stop from the valley's trucking heyday. Likely a roadside shop or service shack born in the postwar boom, it once buzzed with the clatter of travelers fueling up, its double doors swinging to hawk sundries or quick fixes under the watchful gaze of Swan Lake's distant shimmer. But as big-box sprawl eclipsed the mom-and-pops and traffic thundered on, it shuttered its fate with a stark "CLOSED" placard, surrendering to the creep of thistles and cheatgrass that now choke its threshold, while a lone blue dumpster squats like a mocking tombstone beside rusted utility poles and the skeletal hulks of shipping containers. Urban explorers threading BC's vein of forgotten byways will unearth a compact elegy to transience here: nudge past the splintered awning to frame the graffiti-flecked facade against the hulking forms of nearby warehouses, or circle the perimeter where wild sunflowers claw through cracked concrete, the air humming with the phantom diesel growl of semis on the overpass. A subtle canvas for your shutter to capture the quiet insurgency of weeds reclaiming what commerce cast aside, all under skies that stretch eternally blue and indifferent.
Safeguard Montana Complex
Perched on the stark, wind-scoured plains of north-central Montana, roughly 25 miles northwest of Ledger amid the endless ripple of golden prairie grass, the Safeguard Montana Complex looms as a colossal monument to Cold War paranoia and hasty abandonment. Conceived in the late 1960s as a bulwark in the U.S. Army's anti-ballistic missile shield, this remote outpost; dubbed the Perimeter Acquisition Radar site, was meant to scan Soviet skies and safeguard nearby Minuteman silos at Malmstrom Air Force Base. Billions poured into its foundations before the 1972 Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty slammed the brakes, leaving the project a mere 10% complete: a gargantuan, unfinished pyramid of weathered concrete rises like a ziggurat from another era, its truncated second level scarred by rebar skeletons, flanked by derelict power plants, cavernous heat sinks, and skeletal barracks that whisper of a workforce that vanished overnight. Urban explorers drawn to this "million-dollar f#@k up" of governmental hubris will find a labyrinth of rust and regret, where the low howl of Montana winds funnels through shattered ventilation shafts and graffiti blooms like defiant wildflowers on blast doors long sealed against phantom threats. Ascend the precarious catwalks for panoramic views of isolation unbroken save for distant oil derricks, or delve into the subterranean bowels where echoes of radar hums mingle with the drip of infiltrating meltwater, unearthing faded blueprints and rusted consoles that once dreamed of intercepting Armageddon.
Smuts (Ghost Town)
Nestled in the windswept prairies of Saskatchewan, approximately 50 kilometers northeast of Saskatoon along Highway 41, the ghost town of Smuts stands as a poignant relic of rural ambition and inevitable decline. Once a bustling community of around 200 souls in the early 20th century, drawn by the promise of fertile farmland and Ukrainian immigrant heritage, Smuts thrived on grain elevators, a general store, and the rhythmic hum of daily life. But as economic shifts and mechanized agriculture hollowed out small towns across the Canadian plains, residents drifted away, leaving behind a skeletal landscape of weathered homesteads, crumbling barns, and the solitary sentinel of St. John the Baptist Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church; its onion-domed silhouette a haunting nod to the faith that anchored the settlers. For urban explorers, Smuts offers a raw, unfiltered portal to the past, where the creak of rusted gates and the whisper of buffalo grass through shattered windows evoke stories untold. Tread carefully among the abandoned cabins scattered like forgotten dreams across endless fields, where graffiti tags mingle with faded wallpaper peels, and the vast sky presses down like a forgotten memory.
Bodie (Huge Gold Rush Ghost Town)
Bodie, California, is a legendary gold rush ghost town located in the Bodie Hills east of the Sierra Nevada Mountains in Mono County, about 75 miles southeast of Lake Tahoe. Discovered in 1859 by prospector W.S. Bodey—who perished in a blizzard before seeing its success—the site exploded into a booming mining camp after rich gold strikes in 1876, attracting up to 10,000 residents by 1879 with over 2,000 buildings, including 65 saloons, opium dens, a red-light district, and a Wells Fargo bank, earning a reputation for lawlessness, gunfights, and harsh winters. During its peak from 1877 to 1881, Bodie's mines produced nearly $34 million in gold and silver, making it one of California's most productive sites, supported by innovative technologies like the Standard Mill for ore processing. The town's decline began in the 1880s due to depleted veins, economic downturns, and devastating fires in 1892 and 1932 that razed much of the community, reducing the population to a few hundred by the early 1900s and labeling it a ghost town by 1915. Mining ceased entirely by 1942, and the last residents departed in the 1950s, leaving Bodie abandoned until it was designated a California State Historic Park in 1962 and a National Historic Landmark in 1961. Today, preserved in a state of "arrested decay" with about 170 weathered buildings, including homes, a schoolhouse, church, and jail. Bodie attracts over 200,000 visitors annually to explore its eerie, time capsule atmosphere, accessible year-round via State Route 270.